Chapter 7 The Eternal Abyss of the Starless Reach
The Eternal Abyss of the Starless Reach
From a cleft in the mountain where the massif’s stone split and shadow hid him, Idan studied her.
He crouched for hours, unmoving, drawing on patience long trained by archaic wars and epochs spent waiting for his prey.
While his breath was steady, and his body still, his thoughts burned.
His Ssignakht sight closed in on her eyes, tracing the fullness of her lips when she spoke to her colleagues.
His spirit jolted at the stunning depth of her long-lashed hazel gaze as it lifted to the horizon.
His fingers itched to slide into the spring of dark curls on her shoulder, to glide his touch over the honey-gold warmth of her skin.
He almost groaned, longing to brush along her nape, to nibble her earlobe, and turn her so he’d capture those lush lips and hear her moan into him.
Fokk.
Her essence struck him with a force he had not experienced in centuries.
Even more startling, her allure eclipsed the celestial beauty of the goddess lovers who haunted his past.
She far outshone the calculated symmetry of Siahan and the tempestuous radiance of Cascadia.
Even more so, she blotted out the luminous grace of Artya, his former goddess lover, whose name still burned with betrayal in his chest.
She surpassed them all, oblivious to the magnetic force she exerted.
What unsettled him most was the echoes of a rasping, ancient divination spoken beside a dying fire.
He recalled how his unwelcome guest described a woman, her.
One who would arrive devoid of a crown or a blade, yet shift the balance of his world and break down every barricade guarding his heart.
Idan closed his eyes once, fighting the tightening pull to her.
With a grunt, he rose and turned away from the cliff, from her, choosing restraint over temptation.
Without a sound, he vanished into the broken ravines and thorned highlands where the wilderness still called his name.
But not for long. He knew he’d soon return, pulled to her by some invisible, uncontrollable force.
Idan appeared and disappeared throughout the week without warning, arriving at the medical center at nightfall when the hustle and bustle of the clinic was now muted.
His moccasin boots never made a noise.
More than once, Sheba glanced up to find him standing either at the foyer or at Lago’s bedside with that same contained stillness that unsettled her pulse.
One evening, Sheba crossed the admin block with a stack of digital charts clutched to her chest, three hours into her shift.
She rounded a corner as a figure glimmered into view near the abandoned reception desk.
Idan.
He was a pillar of bronzed, scarred muscle that seemed to pull the light from the room and bend it around his frame.
Her breath stuttered as she stared at him.
He wore dark pelt trousers stitched together with raw rope, a thick, woven leather belt riding his slim, muscled hips.
This time, he wore a leather vest, under which muscles rippled, and glyphs shifted in a sensual dance.
Bracelets circled his wrists, a half-moon pendant rested against his chest on an ebony cord, accentuated by his ripped torso.
Black onyx earrings glinted in the light when he turned his head, his eyes locking onto her, as a wild heat surged over her.
The sheer gravitational pull of Idan’s presence caused Sheba’s focus to fracture.
Her boot caught on the raised edge of the reception desk, and with no warning, the floor rose to meet her.
She pitched forward, the charts in her arms fanning out like a deck of cards.
Before gravity completed its claim, two massive hands clamped onto her upper arms.
Idan hauled her upright with effortless grace.
The sultriness from his palms burned through her scrubs, a thermal shock that made her breath hitch.
He pulled her close to him, and her eyes dilated as the tented heat of his arousal pressed against her tummy.
Unable and unwilling to move, she gazed up into his amber eyes.
They held the intensity of a dying sun, and she blushed, mortified that her sighting of him today involved a clumsy near-face-plant.
‘Sante,’ she muttered.
He gave her a tight chin jerk and released her, with a slight curve to his lips.
Hell, Sheba thought as she straightened, nabbed the charts from him, and, taking a breath, walked away from him.
Refusing to acknowledge that she, too, burned with the same need she sensed scorching in him.
She reminded herself of her promise not to get into any entanglements.
The last thing she needed was another male distraction and dating disaster in her life.
She wasn’t alone, though, in her wild reactions to him; this man sent the entire clinic aflutter with his presence.
Conversations faltered when he prowled in.
Younger nurses found reasons to pass near his orbit, to linger at doorways, to steal glances they thought went unseen.
Sheba shut that down with a single message across the group channel, reminding them that this was a hospital, not a spectacle.
Even so, she understood the impulse.
The man was devastating, drawing the eye without effort, mesmerizing all with his inexplicable charisma.
Sheba got inundated with a piercing yearning that ached beneath her ribs when he moved through the space with his quiet certainty.
She found herself imagining the glide of his hair in her hands.
The sculpt of his beard against her fingers, the heat of his skin under her mouth, the breadth of his sensuous lips on hers.
The fantasy startled her with its intensity.
She exhaled through her nose, half amused, part chastened, chiding herself.
Damn woman, rein yourself in! You’re no better than your juniors!
A few evenings later, Sheba was going through a pile of case files at the reception desk when the thrum of a landing vessel cut through the late-hour quiet.
The clinic was settling into its night rhythm, serenaded by the murmur of generators and the muted chattering of birds and insects in the trees surrounding the complex.
The night crew moved through the wards in soft voices, tending to patients and handing out meal trays.
Sheba glanced toward the entrance, her stomach dropping as a sleek flyer settled on the dock and Ty Si’Rhix emerged out of it alone.
‘Fokk,’ she muttered.
The rest of the team was nowhere close to her to call out to.
Worse, the senior doctor on duty, Linh, was resting in a sleep pod after a day spent elbow-deep in surgery.
Why me? Sheba thought as Ty’s footsteps sounded on the ramp.
‘Hello,’ he called out as he marched through the sliding doors.
With a weary exhale, she answered, bracing herself. ‘Come in, we’re open.’
Ty’s presence shattered the fragile calm the moment he crossed the threshold.
The space filled with his expensive cologne and unchecked entitlement, as he strutted toward her with a grin.
‘Ah, just the woman I intended to find; it appears we have matters to discuss,’ he intoned. His fingers smoothed his silk cuffs with a calculated precision, his inflection engineered to project a hollow affability.
He came to a stop before her, his greedy, glittering eyes raking her from head to toe. She hoped all he saw was a tired, weary nurse with zero fokks to give.
‘Is that right?’ Sheba countered, her voice clipping the end of his sentence.
‘A little bird told me you were on duty tonight, so I thought I’d pay a visit.’
She suspected the grizzled miner in bed 21 A, with a broken tibia, and also one of Ty’s lackeys, as the informant.
‘What might you and I have to discuss?’ she muttered with wariness.
‘It’s a matter I’ve already broached the subject with your superiors, Dr. Brad and Dr. Linh, but they’ve proved remarkably reticent, hidebound by a lack of vision.’
He paced the cramped reception area with a proprietary arrogance, as if the very floorboards belonged to him.
‘I’ve observed that even in your brief tenure here in Lattaya, you possess a unique pull with both the residents and the hospital administration. People listen when you speak, Munene.’
Sheba crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive barrier, as she nailed him with a skeptical, unwavering stare.
‘Quit the posturing and spit it out.’
He offered a thin smile and shook his head with the rhythmic, hypnotic grace of a serpent coiled to strike.
‘You’re a fresh arrival to this sector, untainted by the toxic myths and nonsense the locals repeat about my operations.
I run a legitimate enterprise that provides jobs and enriches communities.
My request is simple: please convince your colleagues to relocate this clinic to the lower ridge, further west, where the ground is more secure, and the logistical access is superior.
They’ll be well compensated for the inconvenience. ’
‘Why the hell do you think I’d have any pull with them?’
He paused, leaning against her desk, his eyes glinting with a dangerous intelligence.
‘I am well aware of your lineage, Sheba, that you’re part of the infamous Rider family through your sister’s marriage with Kainan Sable. Given that the Riders fund this clinic, your word carries a certain gravity the doctors cannot match.’
His mouth curved into a smirk. ‘Secure this move for me, and I’ll ensure your cooperation is rewarded with extreme generosity.’
‘Nada,’ Sheba interrupted, annoyed. ‘I’m not interested.’
He jolted for a moment as if he had never considered she’d turn him down.
‘I’m talking over a million schills, woman. That’s life-changing shit.’
‘Enough!’ she grimaced, holding up her hand, her gaze hardening. ‘Your audience is over. Please leave.’
His veneer of polish fractured, his jaw tightening as he closed the distance between them, crowding her, almost to suffocation.
‘Think you can just fob me off?’ he snapped, the affability evaporating into a cold, sharp-edged malice. ‘Do you possess even a fraction of a freakin’ idea who I am? What can I do to mess your shit up if you refuse?’